Everybody lies
by Little-Firestar84
Summary: Greg is as sure as never before: everybody lies.


They were in the elevator. Alone. One of them desperate, sad. The other one, as cynic and sarcastic as ever. They were speaking (or at least, trying to speak) about Wilson's sentence of divorce. He was still in shock, probably because he wasn't able to believe what was happening. He was sure, she would come back to him. He really believed it. He believed it until the sentence will arrive in his hands. After, all become real. It was happening. He was alone again, for the third time in his life. But this time, this time was different, because he wasn't him the cause of the breakage, this time it was his wife's fault.

"I can't believe she really decided to leave me! Not this way! Not betraying me! I mean… I was sure at the end she would come back to me, something like, I don't know, some days before the sentence!"

"Oh please, please! I don't think you're as desperate as you are trying to seem. You're just doing your usual theatrical scene!" They walked out from the elevator, it was the 5th floor. Wilson's one. Jimmy believed (better: hoped) in his friend's compassion. in his help. He was wrong. Gregory House, the one and only, was with him for a unique cause: for to hassle him, to put the finger in the plague. He was the usual one.

"Sorry?" Wilson was a bit angry. nothing strange, since House wasn't very helpful…

"Every time you get divorce, you do this theatrical scene. And every time, after less than a week, a nice morning, you arrive with a new flame, preferably a young blond one. – his friend was a little in shock, not believing what he was listening to - don't you worry! I can really understand you, I mean, in your shoes I would probably do the samest things!"

"I can't believe you just said those things! I come to you to get your help, and you… is this the best you can do for your only friend? Thanks a lot, I got a great help from you?"

"Are you trying to be sarcastic? Because, you know, you're not very good at it. And then… I mean, look at me. You just broke my heart. I was the sarcastic one in our happy couple, and then, what I find? That you're trying to steal my role! It's unfair, Jimmy, very, very, very unfair!"

"You never change! And now, if you want to excuse me, I must go. I've got patients to visit and families to speak with. Differently from you."

"You see? You did it again! You're trying again to broke my heart, this time telling me these bad things on …. – he stopped, hesitating. Not a single word, not a single step for what it seemed a lifetime. He looked in front of him, with a lump in his throat. He looked again at the person he was seeing: a young women, more or less 35 years old, black hair and eyes, elegant and worried, who was out of a room, the 32. It was a single room, private, one for rich people. And he knew her family was quite rich.

"Ehi Wilson… do you have to speak with her?" he asked, looking again at her. She didn't notice him, or Wilson, but instead she entered for a while in the room.

"What?"

"I asked you if you have to speak with her. Because if you have, I'll be more than happy to do it in your place."

"What? You can't! she is not a patient of you! There are rules, you know I can't tell you anything!"

"Sure you can! You have only to ask me for a consultation!"

"I don't need a consultation, I've done his diagnosis, yet. I don't need you, at most, I could ask for an oncologist, but not for you."

"His? Have you just said "his"…as in "of him"? – Wilson nodded – great, she has no apparent health problems. Seen? I don't need to know anything. Don't bother me, I go. And, by the way, you annoy me. But I think you already know it. – the women went out from the room, again. She had her glasses on. She looked less worried. – Sam?!" she turned herself in the direction of his voice, and finally noticed him.

"Sam… - there was something of uncertain in his voice, and of glad at the same time. His voice looked…happy? Wilson wasn't able to believe to his ears. – Sam, I'm glad to see you again after all this time, all these years…"

"Yeah, 10 years are long to pass." She was as cold as ice. She looked, angry, in his eyes. She knew his eyes, very well. She fall in those eyes, once. She was so deepened in them that she didn't notice his cane.

"what can I do? How can I help you? you've only to ask." He was telling her the truth, he was worried, but she didn't want to listen. She stopped him before he finished the questions, with a thread of voice , black eyes in blue eyes. She was going to tell him something, something bad, probably, but was stopped by a child. A more or less 9 years old girl went out from the room and approached her. "Mummy? – she told her lugging her black velvet coat. – grandpa needs you. he wants you to explain him things he don't understood."

"Phoebe, darling, tell him I'm no more his doctor, and that the specialist is here to explain him everything."

While she was speaking with the girl, she was solar, happy, sweet. Her eyes shined, and her smile, too. There was an abyss between the behaviour she had with him and the one she had with him. He was shocked. Not by behaviour, the one she had with him, but by the fact she was a mother. He never thought at her like a mother. Like someone who wanted a family. The child came back to his family, in the white hospital room.

"Mmmm… how sweet you look! – he was sarcastic again. It was the first time since the beginning of their "conversation" – you know, she don't look like you. probably the hair, but this is not important."

"Oh, please, Greg, you're so… predictable. – she went nearer to him and, with an hand in her black hair, she started again to talk with a sort of sarcastic, angry, smile - You became sarcastic when you get scared. Are you scared by something, my dear Greg? Are you ,maybe, feeling guilty? This is the fist time since I know you, and I really know you since a lot of time!"

"To feel guilty you must be a criminal and I'm not of them. Yeah, probably I'm not a saint, but I'm not as bad as people believed. _They draw me that way! – _he paused – I was only noticed she is more than 9, and we broke something like 10 years ago, and she has blue eyes while every single person in your family, both on mummy and daddy's side, has black eyes."

"Are you just telling me you saw her for, what, 3 seconds, and started to believe she is _your daughter? _Please, Greg, you're giving to yourself too much importance.- she went again nearer, a step from each other – you were good for bed, not for a serious relationship. And, just in case I was pregnant when we broke, and I underline _in case,_ do you really believe I'm such a witch?"

Wilson stayed few steps distant, without telling a word, without interfere in their speeches. A red haired man, with dark blue-grey eyes, exited from the 32, the child followed immediately him, and telling "Daddy!" went in his arms. Greg smiled seeing them. Seeing him. Because he knew very well him.

"Dr. Wilson, good morning. Sam, your father is insisting, he wants you to be present when the doctor will see him. – he paused, seeing House – Greg, nice to see you again."

"Me too, Robert." the red haired came back to his father-in-law with his child. Sam followed him immediately, noiselessly.

"You know – Greg said to his friend, going towards the elevator – when I stayed with her, she accused me of betray her with Stacy. Logically, I never admitted it, also if it was true. But, you know what is the nicest thing? I had the sensations she was betraying me, too, with that Irish bastard, but I said, hey, she wasn't able to do such a thing, also if I deserved it! – he smiled again – I just had a taste of my own medicine"

"And how do you feel?"

"Now I'm more sure than ever that everybody lies."


End file.
